


Lad

by Airie



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Cock Tease, Dominance, M/M, Rivalry, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:09:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airie/pseuds/Airie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surprise, surprise, the Dragonborn spins a scheme to have Brynjolf hailed the new Guildmaster, not himself. The later is not pleased with this, tension rises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back In Black

Gallus’ remains rested in Nightingale Hall, as they should have a long time ago. It was mere formality, but gave Karliah peace.

“It’s done.” She said, her face was obscured by her hooded mask. As always her voice was soft, almost a whisper. “Thank you for doing this for me.” She addressed the man beside her.

“I owe you that much.” Brynjolf replied, not daring to look her in the face. Unlike her, he stuck to his old Guild armor. 

“Are you still tormenting yourself over what happened in Irknghtad?” She inquired. Even though her expression was hidden safely behind the mask, he could imagine her frown.

“You don’t know what it felt like, to have all your talents and will used to kill a person.” He said, still staring at the humble gravestone erect for Gallus. “I’m not a killer, I’ve never been. When you have to kill on the job it means you’re not doing it right. When you have no problems with killing on the job, then you’re unfit for it in the first place.”

The Nightingale nodded, she understood him well. He resented pointless murder and violence, though understood that once you have no choice only a fool hesitates. But what when you act against your will and are used by an unspeakable force as a deadly weapon?

“It was the power of the Key in Mercer’s hands. No one could resist, even you.” She explained calmly and logically.

“You’re probably right.” He finally stopped gazing at the old Guild Master’s resting place. “I’m heading back to the Guild.”

“I’m coming with you.” She said in a less concerned tone. Though with Karliah reading body language and tone was hard, even for someone as himself.

“Are you sure?” He asked, expecting her to want to stay and contemplate at her beloved’s grave.

“Do you honestly think I’ve went through all the trouble of exposing Mercer and hunting him down to squat here in the dark for the rest of my days?”

And so they went. Brynjolf was actually looking forward to his return, he hasn’t been to the Ratway in a longer while, busy with helping Karliah transporting Gallus’ remains from Snow Veil Sanctum to Nightingale Hall. He never liked to leave the Guild for too long.

Riften was sound asleep, slipping past the few guards and entering the cemetery was child’s play. Just a moment to let the false sarcophagus slip into the mausoleum’s wall, and they were home.

Everyone was at the cistern. From the lowliest footpad, to Delvin, Vex and Lored, the man Brynjolf recruited himself. A sharp lad, instrumental in uncovering Mercer’s scheme. They all looked as if they were waiting for someone. For him, actually.

He approached the trio at the center of the room, Karliah vanished somewhere in the crowd. Lored stepped forward and opened his arms

“Welcome… Guild Master!” He said with a wide grin, placing his hands on Bryn’s shoulders.


	2. Have A Drink On Me

The ceremony was short and simple. Afterwards, the thieves retreated to all corners and nooks of the Ratway to mingle and drink in honor of their new Guild Master. Lored disappeared somewhere in the crowd, the only ones at the center of the cistern were Brynjolf and Delvin.

“You, Delvin? Of all people, you against me?” The newly appointed Guild Master asked bitterly.

“Now hold on! Who said I’m against you?” the Breton rebutted. “I’m doing what’s best for the Guild.”

“You know how I feel about it.”

“Well, tough luck, Bryn. Now, why don’t you get yourself a drink? It’s your party after all.” Mallory patted him on the shoulder before heading to wherever he could find Vex.

He stood motionless for a moment. Though cool on the outside, he was burning inside. He…! That…! All of them…! They all plotted against him! Him! A seasoned con artist, a professional! He was the one to play and deceive people, not the other way around! Just let him get his hands on that slimy little…! Where is he?!

Lored smoothly slipped into one of the nooks in the main cistern, observing the victim of his plot growing angrier and angrier with each passing heartbeat. Good. Bryn deserved it after trying to maneuver him into the unwanted post of ‘the boss’. Smug bastard was apparently a sore loser.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” Karliah appeared next to him. How was she able to do that undetected was beyond him, perhaps a Nightingale secret.

“I am, Karliah. You have no idea how. The look on his face was worth all that careful planning behind his back.” The man confessed. “Thank you in playing your part.”

“A pleasure.”

In the safety of the Guild she allowed herself to take her hood and mask off. Her eyes had the most intriguing shade of amethyst, which in combination with her soft voice and small frame made one question whether she was a Dunmer or perhaps a being from outside of Mundus.

“He never knew what hit him.” Lored commented, not moving a muscle, as Bryn started looking around, trying to find and undoubtedly kill him.

“What are your plans now that you got what you wanted?” She questioned.

“I’m leaving in a few days. I… got some business on Solstheim.” He informed, losing his good mood. He didn’t like to think about the future. Then again, he had no past to dwell on either.

“I see. Then…”

“I hadn’t forgotten about the deal we struck with… her.” The very thought of Nocturnal made him shiver. “And if you’ll need me, I’m always at your service.” He swore drily.

“You’re angry with me.” She stated the obvious.

“No… I want to blame you, I want to be angry with you for whoring my soul to a Daedra in exchange for revenge and prowess, but I can’t. You were straightforward with me and Brynjolf. You told us about all the strings attached with becoming a Nightingale. I can’t blame you.”

“But still I can sense bitterness in your tone.”

“That’s just who I am.” He faked a convincing smile with little effort. “Damn, he spotted us. Stall him for me, please?” He requested, seeing the redhead noticing him sulking in the corner, and rushing towards them with fury he was barely able to cover up.

“My pleasure.” The elf agreed softly.

“Don’t!” The Guild Master said once the Nightingale got in his way.

“Don’t what? Congratulate you? I would have never expected such rudeness from you, my friend.” She smiled faintly, still in his way.

“Don’t play with me Karliah. I can’t believe you all betrayed me like that!”

“No one betrayed you. To the contrary, we’re all behind you, Brynjolf. There isn’t a thief here who wouldn’t back you up.” She said surprised, perhaps sincerely.

“I’m not a leader.”

“They trust you. They look up to you.” She tried to talk sense into him. “I trust you.” She added. A confession such as this wasn’t easy for her, after suffering betrayal and exile. 

“Karliah, all my years in the Guild were spent on supervising our operations in Riften, solving problems and mentoring the newcomers, not making the tough decisions. And I was content in being second, never first.”

“I know. But would a newcomer be any better than you?” She pointed out. Even though Lored came at a crucial moment and proved to have a natural talent, he was still mostly unknown to the Guild. 

“He would handle himself just fine with me at his side.”

“You don’t know that. Now, I think I stalled you long enough.” She finally stepped aside. “Enjoy your evening…”

Lored was nowhere to be found. Damn!

\---

“So, Thrynn… You used to be a bandit, right?” Cynric leaned confidentially.

“Yeah, what of it?” The latter asked incredulously.

“Then is it true that bandits, you know… Get really friendly with the wildlife?” The jailbreaker taunted.

“You’re an idiot.” Thrynn shrugged disgusted, reaching for some more spirits.

“Oh, come on! A bandit’s life must have been quite exciting! All that pillaging and helpless lasses at your mercy, eh?” Endell continued, paying no mind to Lored, who joined them at the table.

“You’re a real idiot.” The former bandit repeated, focusing on his drink. He might have more muscle, but Cynric was faster with a blade. The evening was too nice to spoil with a brawl.

“So modest!” The Breton jailbreaker sighed. “What do you think?” He addressed the newcomer.

“What do I think?” Lored asked politely, every now and then subtly glancing whether he was spotted chatting with the two.

“The life of a bandit, my friend! Do you think Thrynn had his share of plunder from the lovely ladies?” He grinned, his clever eyes sparked form under his hood.

“Wow, Cynric, you are an idiot!” Lored exclaimed, surprising both his comrades. “If you think that’s the only way to get a lady to sleep with you, then…”

“I’ll just tell him.” Thrynn cut in, sensing that if Lored went on, it would end up in a dispute and possibly a few slashes here and there.

“Of course!” The third man said amiably. “I’m sorry for interrupting.” He gave them his most innocent an false look.

“Sure, I had my share of unpleasant incidents.” Thrynn started his tale. “I’m not proud of many. But forcing a woman to sleep with me? Don’t get me wrong,” he shook his head, noticing his glass was empty, to which Cynric quickly attended, “it’s not difficult to overpower a woman. But what’s the fun in that? Lots of screaming and crying, sometimes scratching and biting. I hate the sound of a screaming woman.” He shrugged, his comrades nodded. “Anyway, if you play it smart they actually force themselves on you.”

“Now you’re just pulling my leg!” Cynric snarled. “If I wanted stories I’d go talk to Vipir.” 

“Yeah? Picture this; our clan ransacked a caravan. The merchant’s wife was the hottest piece to ever grace the Pale. I tell you, mature women…” He coughed, realizing he was drifting away from the subject. “I play it smart, I nicely ask her to get off the wagon. I got the feeling she and the mister are at odds, so I play the dashing rogue, whatever. We take the merchandise, the merchant we let go, but wearing only his breeches. He gallops to the nearest settlement, whilst we take off with the goods. And I with the lady.”

“Ah, those bored townswomen.” Lored sighed dreamily.

“He knows what he’s talking about.” Thrynn addressed Cynric, pointing at the man. “Rich, bored married women who couldn’t care less about their husband… You give them an adventure they’ll never forget and they can surprise you!” He leered, going back to some tender memories. “I got her food, some good drink, waited for her to… ‘open up’. After a week she opened up to all of us!” He put his hands together as if he was praying. “I’ll never forget that one trick she could do with her tongue and some honey… erm… Eventually she had to go. And that was when she cried.” He finished the story with a sigh.

“You’re kidding me.” Cynric shuttered. “No way that could have happened!”

“You pull off some charm, be patient and believe me Cynric, you’d be surprised.” Lored agreed with the ex-bandit. “Just ask Brynjolf here! I’m sure he can tell you a lot about charming people!” He quickly said, when the Guild Master heavily joined them at the table.

“What?” Bryn blinked, regaining some of his cool. Making a scene in front of others would just make him look unprofessional.

But it was too late, the blessed betrayer left him with Cynric and Thrynn, with whom he had to spend a solid quarter of an hour discussing the importance of charm in dealing with women. Finally, Thrynn left to relieve himself of all the drinks he poured into himself.

“Well, now.” Cynric grinned when they were left alone. “Angry, are we?”

“What makes you think that?” The boss asked incredulously. He and Cynric had a casual thing going on, with varying intensity. The jailbreaker was honestly someone who got to know him on a less… professional basis.

“You can fool the footpads and thugs, but not me. He got to you.” Endell smirked. “I must say, it’s a sight for my sore eyes, seeing your pride wounded by an upstart.”

“Don’t test me.” Brynjolf said calmly, in a tone and manner that had most people who knew him grow cold.

“You’re going to bed him.” Endell summed up, raising his glass in a mocking manner. “I wouldn’t mind joining in, you know. I always had a thing for boyish men… Is that a no?” He asked, seeing the Guild Master storm out. “Bwah, he never liked to share…”

\---

“You would never be half the Guild Master he will.” Vex begun the conversation with an insult.

“I know.” Lored took the slur with humility.

Dealing with Vex always required a lot of patience and politeness. The worst thing one could do was to try flirting or intimidating her. Many upstarts made that mistake only to have their bodies found in the canal the day later.

She begrudgingly allowed him to sit next to her at the bar of the Ragged Flagon. Initially, some of the members thought they were related. Possibly because of their light skin, platinum hair and amber eyes. But there were no family relations between them, or so he supposed.

“He’ll turn this place around.” She went on, savoring her drink.

“Sure he will.” The man agreed sincerely.

Vex was blindly loyal to Brynjolf. There were no romantic feelings behind her devotion, he was like a brother to her. He was the only one in the Guild who could control her blade when there was too much heat. Though young and not as long with the Guild as some, Vex quickly climbed to the position of third in the organization. It was Bryn who introduced her into the family, though the details were sketchy, just like everything surrounding the ice-cold infiltrator.

“How did Mercer die?” She suddenly asked. She must have had more than one drink in her if she touched such a personal… intimate matter.

“I strangled him with my bare hands.” Lored answered bluntly. There was no playing games with Vex, unless you weren’t much attached to your body parts. “Then I looted the body and dumped it in water.”

“Good.” She nodded, not bothering with turning to look at him.

“Bare hands, you say?” Delvin, up to now safely hidden in the shadows, joined them. “I would love to see the look on his face.”

“Angry.” Lored shook his head, not giving the slightest signal he’d want to elaborate.

“A shame, really.” Mallory sighed. “None of us saw it coming.”

“Karliah did,” Lored reminded. “And that only got her framed for murder and exiled.”

“Bastard!” Vex said out loud. “Screwing us over for so many years! And we trusted him! I trusted him!”

“And so did I.” Bryn stood behind her and gently put his hands on her shoulders. “It only shows what a cold, calculating bastard he was. Now,” he leaned over the infiltrator, “are you sure you hadn’t had enough?” He asked concerned. “Maybe you should get some rest?” He suggested.

“Fine, whatever you say.” She agreed meekly, getting up and wobbling to the sleeping area.

Lored was astonished by how smoothly he handled Vex. Were it someone else, they would lose their fingers for daring to touch her and for using that tone with her. Moreover, his concern was… genuine, deprived of any innuendos or patronizing. 

“Finally!” Vekel, the barkeeper attended to his patrons. “The Guild Master graces my humble tavern!”

“Vekel, come on… How many years have we knew each other?” The redhead sighed heavily. “I’m still me.”

“And that’s why you’re the best man for this job! You won’t let power change you!” Vekel smiled, pouring him one of the best vines he had. “On the house.”

Brynjolf accepted without protest. The wine was good, tart. He hated sweet wines. He was alone; Delvin and the bastard left whilst he was talking to Vekel. He overheard Mallory saying something about showing Lored something. He wasn’t much surprised, but he was patient. Sooner or later he’ll get his hands on the fucker.

\---

“Hey!” Delvin grabbed Rune by the wrist, when he and Lored were passing the hallway heading to the training room. “She’s a lady, you show her respect, you hear me?” His eyes narrowed.

“Wha…?” The other thief blinked dumbstruck. “Sure, Delvin. I’m not a swine.”

After weeks of wooing Sapphire she finally agreed to go with him alone to the training room to do some private training of their own. What was Delvin’s problem?

“Good.” Mallory released, then was once again the good uncle of the Guild. “You two have fun.”

The blond thief hadn’t asked why Delvin cared. Whatever his reasons were, he best keep out of them. He followed the master sneak to the Guild Master’s desk, where there was already a tribute chest prepared for Bryn.

“Here…” Mallory searched his pockets to fish out a key. “This is for you.” He said, presenting it to the other.

“What’s it for?” Lored weighted the key in his hands.

“You’re not the Guild Master, I’m not even sure where in the ranks you are. But you did us a service and deserve something. You’re not protesting? Good, I hate false humbleness.” The Breton approved.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. This is your tribute chest.” Delvin pointed at a humble wooden chest next to the shelf where larceny targets were proudly displayed. Lored smiled, marveling at the queen bee statue and the likes. Those brought back memories… Well, maybe except for the golden ship model. “We’ll fill it with stuff you might like every now and then.”

“Great!” His face lit up.

“Now, you didn’t hear it from me, but Tonilia has something for you. Something nice, leather and black.”

“Do I get a puppy next?” Lored joked.

“Keep doing your thing and we’ll keep making it worth your while.” The Breton dismissed. “Now, why don’t you go see her? I got to mingle.” With that, he was gone.

The blond slid the key into his pocket. Who said crime didn’t pay? His mood couldn’t get better. With a whistle he went to see his favorite fence. And that was when he let his guard down.

\---

He smiled innocently, trying to ignore the forearm pressing hard against his throat. Well, it happened. Bryn finally got him. Damn he was furious! Rage made him even more alluring. And lethal. 

“Do you have a moment to talk?” The boss asked with venom in his voice, pressing his forearm harder.

“For you? Always!” Lored gurgled cheerfully, as if just a second ago the redhead hadn’t jumped him in the shadows between the Flagon and the cistern, slammed him against the wall and tried to choke.

“You treacherous bastard. You thought you could play me and get away with it?” The con artist lost his jovial mask.

“Oh, like you didn’t want to do the same to me!” Lored lashed out. “You must really think I’m an idiot!” He tried to maneuver himself out of the side room they found themselves in, but Brynjolf kept blocking the exit.

“Lad, you might not noticed but it’s what I do. And you could have had it good if you played along.”

“Stop calling me lad. I’m an adult, maybe even older than you.” His amber eyes narrowed. He hated being patronized like that. He also hated not being in control of his fate and actions.

“I find it hard to believe.” The other snarled. “For a grownup you sure are bratty.”

“Says the man who threw a fit when things didn’t go his way.” The other finally gave up his attempt to flight. It was time to fight.

“I have half a mind to slit your smile.”

“I’m sure Karliah would love to see us at each other’s throats for something as petty as pride.”

Damn it, he was right. The last thing they needed was the trinity of Nightingales breaking apart, after banding just recently.

“I’m going to be stuck with you for all eternity after I die.” Brynjolf realized, regaining his cool.

“Not necessarily. Nocturnal isn’t the only Daedra you could do business with.” Lored said nonchalantly. “Face it, Bryn. You are not the boss of me. It was fun to have you entangle me and pull into a world of crime, but it’s over. We’re equals now. And I say go fuck yourself.” He said with a daring look. “Because I’m not having anyone collar me and walk around, not even you.”

“Not even me? What’s that supposed to mean?” He grew tired of the lad’s games.

“Don’t play coy. You seduced me, you sly fuck.”

“And you let me. Besides, you ain’t the first nor last.” He refuted without a blink. “I won’t lie, you are my best investment. Though you’re getting bothersome now.”

“Forgive me for having a mind of my own.” Lored faked a swoon. “No worries. I won’t bother you for long. I’m leaving soon.”

“To where?” The boss demanded an answer.

“What’s it to you? Keeping tabs on me?” The upstart sassed. “I’ll be back when the mood hits me to collect my part of the profits, maybe take a job or two. Though I wouldn’t count on me settling down in the Guild for good. I guess I’m a free spirit.”

“The Guild doesn’t look kindly to freelancers, you know.” Brynjolf made note, regaining his composure.

“I’ll be sure to remember that.” The blond swore cynically. “Now, the night is still young but I’m already tired. I got to see Tonilia, then I’m heading home. I haven’t got any good sleep in weeks.”

“Home?”

“Haven’t you heard? I bought a house here in Riften, Honeyside.” Lored said with pride. “I have no idea why, I treat it as an investment. Besides, I have to dump my stuff somewhere. Not to mention my loot.”

“Well look at you, I thought you didn’t want any obligations.” The redhead pointed out.

“I tend to change my mind. Besides, I need to retire somewhere. Though I could make some security improvements, I wouldn’t want anyone breaking into my house when I’m away, now would I?”

“Riften is a dangerous city.” The Guild Master agreed, wondering what was the lad’s purpose in telling him all this.

“I tend to forget that. Maybe I’m still a bit naive. I sometimes sleep with my window open, would you believe that? Now, you should draw your own conclusions as to why am I telling you where I live and how to easiest get into my house. For now I bid you goodnight.” Lored said drily, passing Bryn and ramming his shoulder into his.

Oh, this was going to be a fun night.


	3. Night Prowler

Honeyside was a cozy abode, the likes of you immediately feel at home. Lored kept it nice and simple faithful to the original rustic theme. Though immediately after buying the house he dismissed Iona, his housecarl. He didn’t feel comfortable with that woman blindly swearing loyalty to him, though never meeting him before. There was something wrong with her being… given to him. Awarded, like a prize for doing jarl Leila a service. She wasn’t a trusted partner, more like property. He didn’t like that, after going through the same ordeal with another unwanted female companion in Whiterun. He much more liked to win someone’s respect and loyalty. 

He sighed, putting the package with his new armor on the table and making a few rearrangements in his bedroom. His hood got in the way, so he took it off and ruffled his short hair. In the warm light of the house the vertical scar on his cheek was clearly visible. He rubbed his chin, feeling it was about time to get a shave. He’ll think about it in the morning.

In the privacy of his home he could let his thoughts drift away. There weren’t that many memories to dwell upon, the farthest his mind could reach went back to about two years ago…

_He regained his consciousness, feeling snow falling on his face. With a grunt he managed to pull himself up, but lost his balance and fell face-down in a warm puddle of water and mud. The back of his head hurt, when he reached to massage it his hand got covered in blood. Blood was also on his face, where a fresh cut steadily bled, staining his chin and neck. All around him the snow had melted and he himself smelled like… thunder?_

_He wasn’t alone, next to him was another man. He grabbed him by the shoulder and turned over only to see that he was dead; his throat had been slit. Whoever he was, he looked like a mage of some sort. Never mind, his gear could come in handy. He looted the body, retrieving a ornamented dagger (possibly connected to the cut on his face?), some gold and a letter._

_Not far away was a bloodied sword. The blade was decent and fitted the sheath he had on his hip, so he could only assume it was his. He looked around, trying to guess his exact location. All around were tall pines, snow and mountains. He had no idea where he was. Furthermore, he had no idea who he was._

_He opened the letter, hoping to find a clue. ‘Lored is heading to the boarder. Kill him.’ Was written on the fine parchment. There was no date nor name._

_“Lored!” A woman in mercenary armor called out, appearing on top of one of the hills. She immediately pointed her readied arrow at him. “Die, traitor!”_

_He ran. He kept running until he unknowingly passed the border between Cyrodiil and Skyrim. He ran until he fell into an ambush along with people rebelling against some empire he had no idea of. He had no idea about the Legion, Stormcloaks or civil war. He had no understanding of what mess he got himself into, just as he had no clue as to who were the people who wanted him dead._

_“Who are you?” A man with a list and quill asked when he was rounded up in Helgen before the chopping block._

_“Lored… I guess.” He said after a moment of thought._

Two years, and still no sudden revelation. He tried the priests of Kynareth, the mages up in Winterhold, and still no one could help him. The priests were only able to determine that whatever caused his memory loss (favoring a spell) hadn’t affected him permanently. The mages also favored the spell hypothesis, arguing between themselves what school of magic it came from. They then said they could not help him, but offered a series of ‘tests’ that just might help, starting with a vivisection. He ran from the College as fast as he could, only to return months later this time hoping to learn more about the Elder Scrolls.

He went over the blasted letter hundreds of times, finally breaking down and burning the accursed sheet. He tried to find any clue on himself, he spent weeks examining his body hoping to find a tattoo, scar or birthmark that could shed some light on his identity. He found nothing. He even went as far as to shave his head thinking some clue might be hidden under his grown out hair, but still nothing. 

He tried to guess who he was. How old was he? His bet was between early and mid thirties. Did he have family? Was he married? Did he have children? Was someone missing him? No idea. Was he a man of faith? Doubtful. Was he brutish or charming? That didn’t matter anymore. He only knew he had enemies back in Cyrodiil and he was safe as long as he remained on Skyrim.

There were small events, triggers that suddenly made him remember random scenes from his past. Like that one time when he awoke in an abandoned shack with some woman named Astrid. Waking up on the dirty wooden floor made him realize this wasn’t the first time he was abducted in his sleep and carried to a remote place. Although as hard as he tried, he couldn’t remember more and put the memory into proper context. He walked out of that place with Astrid’s blood on his blade. He had never appreciated being kidnapped, he knew that well.

More small snippets of his past appeared randomly, whether when in his leisure time, in combat or on the job, but he was unable to connect them and draw any conclusions. He started to wonder whether he was unable to, or maybe he subconsciously just didn’t want to remember. His frustration grew, but gradually he focused more and more on how he became, not who he was.

He was initially like a baby dumped in the woods, but in time he discovered more and more about himself in terms of his talents and skills. He was quick with a blade and handy with a bow. Not to mention what he could do with a simple lockpick. He preferred an indirect approach, sneaking around obstacles rather than facing them directly. Heavy armor and weapons weren’t his thing. Neither were shields. He had no magical talent to speak of… aside from the unique ‘blessing’ he was given from the Divines.

The Dragonblood. Another unnecessary complication in his already complicated life. As if he didn’t already have problems with figuring himself out. First Alduin and now this Miraak character. No matter, he’ll sail to Solstheim and see to it soon. He could use a change of scenery, get a new perspective on his activities during those two years.

After escaping Helgen he spent months roaming the province, making all sorts of friends and enemies. He was a curious sort, he learned that quick about himself. He enjoyed travelling, meeting new people and of course the occasional tomb raiding or burglary. Something told him he wasn’t much lawful from the start.

Eventually, he found himself in Riften. If he would know what consequences a chance meeting in the marketplace would have, he would… Well, he had no idea what he would do. He was almost murdered by Frey and sold his soul to Nocturnal, but at the same time gained some valuable contacts and abilities. 

The candle went out with a hiss just as Lored was about to wander a slippery path of thought. It was well over midnight, all he had to do now was wait. He’ll come, of course he will. He wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to have him alone. To be honest, he also wanted to have the rogue in private. There was some bad blood between them to work out.

He sat back in the corner and waited. Less than half an hour passed when there was movement. Bryn was good at his trade, the host hadn’t noticed him until he stood up after creeping inside. He was a true magician; the always creaky window made no sound when he entered. Lored held his breath as not to give away his position. Even when on the prowl there was something magnetic about the redhead.

The burglar silently approached the bed and froze, examining the figure under the covers. He then relaxed, whispering a curse.

“Pillows under the covers? Really? You must think I’m either an idiot or amateur!” He exclaimed without looking over his shoulder.

“Actually I was thinking you’d be too distracted to notice.” Lored replied politely form the corner he was sulking in. “I can smell your fury from here.”

“You know no one will hear you scream, right laddie?” When his voice dropped, his accent was even more pronounced.

“Now what makes you think I haven’t planned any nasty surprises myself? This is my house, I doubt you told anyone where you’re heading. I know how to hide a body.” The host’s voice moved somewhere farther away.

The Guild Master skidded to where he heard it come from, but there was no one there. His hearing attuned to the sounds Honeyside, but he couldn’t hear the lad amongst the subtle creaks and squeaks of the house.

Mere inches from him he heard a crack, followed by soft light. The blonde lit an olive lamp.

“Relax. If we’re going to talk we should see each other, right?” He carefully placed the lamp on a shelf. “How do you like my place?”

“Charming. Now how about you be a good host and offer me a drink?” The seasoned thief requested, passing the other man and occupying one of the comfier chairs in the dining area.

“Hadn’t you had enough in the Flagon?” Lored inquired, crossing his arms.

“Only one on the house form Vekel. He’s importing better stuff now that the coin flows.” Bryn noticed the bundle with the armor from Delvin. “You got an upgraded set?”

“What can I say? I look good in black.” He sassed, throwing his guest a bottle.

He watched him drink, but kept his wits. Relaxation was never a good idea around the rogue.

“Why did you want me here?” Brynjolf finally asked, finishing with a huff. The spirits were good, unlike his mood.

“Why did you come?” Lored answered with a question.

“Don’t play games with me. I’m not in the mood.”

“You kept playing games with me from the start.” The blond pointed out, sitting opposite to him at the solid oak table. “How about you stop playing and be honest with me?”

“Ah, and you’re entitled to see me for who I really am, right? Look past the charade I’ve been playing with people for so many years, hmm?”

“No. Believe me, I have no need of getting this personal. I won’t demand you tell me who you really are and what moves that shrewd heart of yours. I’m just…” he rested his cheek on his propped palm, “… so tired.” He dared him in the eye. “I’m tired of you messing with my head. I wanted you to taste your own medicine, and believe me it was worth to see you being put down a notch. For a second I saw you react, not act.”

“So, you wanted to piss me off.” He summed up, bending back on his chair.

“In an essence.”

“That doesn’t explain why you wanted me in private.”

“Putting the obvious reason aside? Now that you’re here, I have no idea. It’s weird seeing you in a house.”

“Too normal for you?”

“A bit.”

“I can be pretty common if I’d want to.” Bryn assured.

“No.” Lored protested calmly. “You can pretend to be normal and everyday. I’m sure I’d even fall for it. But you can’t actually be normal. Subterfuge runs in your blood.”

“And you’re wide-eyed and innocent, right?” He taunted.

“I’m irrelevant.” The blonde dismissed quietly.

The Guild Master realized he never learned anything meaningful about Lored. He knew all his protégés to some degree. But this one was blank. He knew Lored’s merits and flaws as a thief’s, his personality to some extent, but no back story or any personal facts. This was unusual, people had the habit of confiding their secrets to him.

“What’s your story, anyway?” He asked, playing with the now empty bottle.

“Come on, Bryn we all have our stories, more or less dramatic. Why fake interest now? I proved loyal and resourceful, there’s no need to try and figure me out.” He tried to dodge the question.

“I’m not used to have my interest turned down like that.” The night guest raised a brow, getting up.

“I’m not budging.” Lored cut the conversation, doing the same.

What to do or say now? They were alone, both still agitated. Taunt each other some more? Have a brawl and get it over with? Or…

“You’re awfully shaky.” Brynjolf noted, getting dangerously close. “You alright?” 

“Tell me I’m not imagining this tension.” He pleaded, closing his eyes. Without the table separating them he felt exposed. He didn’t trust his hands or tongue anymore.

“Oh, but there is tension here. And it’s not just wounded pride and ambition.” The irresistible voice was heard close. Too close, right in front of the blonde’s face.

He felt the rogue trace his scar, his fingers felt hot. Lored’s self-control was fading faster than he anticipated.

“So…” Bryn whispered straight into his ear. “Are we going to finally cut the act and have it over with?”

“I’m not that kind of guy.” Lored lied, clenching his fists. He was. For that green-eyed bastard he was.

“Sure you are…” The redhead took the trembling fists into his hands. “If it’ll help, I’m very much interested myself.”

Of course he was. He would love to sleep with the junior thief. Not only for fun, but mostly to show just how much in control he was. And how much Lored wasn’t.

The host hadn’t protested when the scoundrel’s lips brushed against his. Bryn kept gently rubbing his fists, patiently working his mouth and tongue, until the other man yielded and let him explore his mouth.

Lored gave up. This was going on for far too long, the dramatic finale was about to happen! With a pained grunt he suddenly grabbed the rogue and kissed deeply. They rowdily made their way to the bedchamber.

They collapsed on the bed, Lored felt the wood hitting the small of his back. No matter, he was more preoccupied with Bryn on top of him. It was dark, but he could have sworn he saw a spark in those green eyes.

“Mm… You know how it’s done.” The boss praised, loosening the other’s collar. “Any other hidden talents I should know about?” He inquired, before nibbling on the blonde’s neck. 

“More than you’d believe.” The host murmured, shutting all his wits and logic off. He needn’t them for this moment. Regrets he was saving for later.

He hadn’t noticed when the front of his jacket was shamelessly undone, and Brynjolf was undoing his own armor. Nocturnal’s sweet titties, he wished he could freeze this moment in time and relive for as long as he’d like. He helped the Guild Master get that pesky jacket off, before rolling on the bed.

“You were right…” The redhead said, sinking his fingers into the short blond strainds.

“About what?” Lored murmured, completely giving in.

“About me seducing you into the Guild.” Brynjolf rested on his protégé’s chest. “And you know what? I seduced you again just now… lad.”

The blonde snapped and bucked, but the boss kept him firmly in place. What an idiot he was! A few nice words, a little physical intimacy and he completely gave in, letting Bryn play him however he’d want! What was wrong with him?! He knew how dangerous letting his guard down would be!!! And he got played and manipulated like a sheltered maiden!

“Get out.” Was all he could say, sitting up.

“Not yet. Some more humiliation for you first.” Brynjolf chuckled, pushing him back down. “You got a taste, and now you’ll be back for more. And I’ll be waiting for you, I’m nothing if not patient.” He promised still on top of him.

“You evil…!” The host groaned in helpless anger.

“Evil he calls me! As if I’m hurting him! Or maybe I’m forcing you, hmm? No… you’re free to do whatever you want, my friend. But we both know this doesn’t end here.” He purred, for a second smothering Lored with his weight. “You have no idea how much I am looking forward to this.”

The host could only breath deep and loud, gagging on lust and anger. He was right. He hated Brynjolf at this very moment, but knew he’ll eventually beg him for more. This was poisonous, but he just couldn’t resist.

“Just get out, Brynjolf.” He demanded, but his voice betrayed him and it sounded like a plea.

“The game is on.” The rogue whispered with satisfaction, withdrawing. “You know where to find me.” He mocked, flinging on his armored jacket, and smoothening his hair.

“Out!” The lad grunted, but didn’t move an inch. He knew that if he gets up, there will be blood.

“You’re going to miss me, won’t you?” Bryn taunted, heading towards the window.

Instinctively he ducked; a solid clay mug hit the wall, shattering into tiny bits. He laughed and in a second he was gone, back the way he came. Lored was left alone, humiliated and defeated by the man he was bound to have in his life. The man who he lusted after and admired, but at the same time still distrusted.

“Oh it is on!” He said through clenched teeth.

The End


End file.
